


Dry

by ineedthislikeaholeinthehead



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blow Job, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 00:29:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20883182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineedthislikeaholeinthehead/pseuds/ineedthislikeaholeinthehead
Summary: Matt and Ben have always been the closest of friends, but when Ben requests some unorthodox help for a personal problem, is Matt willing to do whatever it takes?





	Dry

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't know who I am (it's nobody important) you can totally skip this, cus it's about to get personal. 
> 
> I've been MIA from here for a fuck load of time. 
> 
> I've been bouncing around fandoms for a while, but the real reason has to do with what happened on January 20th, 2017. 
> 
> Not President Trump, January 20th has a deep significance for my life because it was the day I collected all of my whiskey and vodka and poured them down the drain. 
> 
> There is nothing easy about being sober when you're an alcoholic. And I honestly don't know if it's been worth it. Being drunk was how I dealt with childhood trauma, sure, but it was also how I kept my awful job. Once I was sober and therefore assertive and alert, it was made very obvious that I was no longer welcome. I was lucky enough to find a job with nice people who treat me like a human being, but that job was 100 miles away from the city I call home, and the transition hasn't been easy. 
> 
> I wanted to write something about how hard it is to give up something that had been there for you, about how terrifying it is to lose a relationship as important as alcohol but as soon as I started forming something, everything in my life sort of exploded and I'm just now starting to get that life back together. 
> 
> Throughout these struggles, I sorta clung to Affleck- we started treatment at the same time, and by nothing other than luck, I'm still sober though unfortunately, I know he's been having a harder struggle. I don't care. He might never be sober again, and I'm not going to judge. He came out to talk about how hard this is publicly at exactly the right time to help me feel less alone, and I'll always remember it. 
> 
> Through all of the ups and downs, I knew I wanted to write about alcoholism, but after everything, I found myself struggling to put pen to paper, or fingers to keys- hell, I would have taken crayon to coloring book if it got the words out! It's taken me a long time to be able to get back to fic. I fell out of my fandoms and don't feel part of them any more and I've chosen to write an old pairing, knowing that probably no one cares any more. I guess I have to deal with that. 
> 
> As important as feeling part of a fandom is, I know that writing fic isn't just about finding your community. It's about finding yourself. I don't know if I got everything I wanted out of this, but I think I've got something. 
> 
> Thanks for reading if you did!

The first time Matt remembers being concerned, they were still kids. 

It was a pain in the ass to find beer at all, but whatever they’d procured for their Friday night soirees (him, Ben and Casey sitting behind empty buildings, talking shit and kicking empties) and the speed at which Ben would down them would have been impressive if it didn’t leave him such a wreck. 

Matt was afraid to bring it up. Afraid that if he did, it would all be his fault. By coincidence (hopefully) they’d started discovering the good parts of alcohol (because the were all too familiar with the bad ones) at the same time that they’d started discovering each other. Matt didn’t have the stomach to hear Ben blame him. What if the drinking was his way of coping with what was happening between them? 

God knew Ben’s reaction was better than what Matt was doing- pretending it didn’t matter and trying to bury it every time a feeling popped up. 

So many nights he stayed up wondering what life would have looked like for them if he had just had the strength to ask him about it way back when it started. 

*  
It didn’t escalate alongside their escalation. 

Things seemed to be going relatively well in the way only a twisted and confusing relationship could. 

Matt was at college and he didn’t get to see Ben as much- not that it was such a trek, but things were different. Matt was good with words, but he didn’t have the right ones to describe why. 

When they did see each other, there were drinks, sure, but there was sex, and that seemed more important to both of them, and less worrisome than simple make out sessions had been before. 

It probably helped that they’d both been with girls by that point. So they knew they weren’t gay. It was a relief, for sure, to know that whatever was happening when Ben spent the night at Matt’s dorm, or one of their parents’ houses was empty, it wasn’t a relationship at least. 

Ben was drinking a lot maybe. But that’s what guys did in college. Or when your buddy was in college, at least. 

*  
The first time Ben admitted there was something wrong, it wasn’t because of Matt. He came back to their shitty place in Eagle Rock and Casey was sitting on the couch with a black eye and Ben was in the bedroom, reading a textbook, holding a towel to his bloody nose like it was a completely normal thing to do. In this house, it wasn’t exactly untrue. 

Matt had seen them like this before, and he just sat down at the flimsy desk in the room and waited until Ben closed his book. 

“He just got on my nerves again.” 

The last few nights Ben had been on a constant binge. It was one thing downing cheap beer Thursday to Sunday- there was always a party to use as an excuse- but this was Tuesday. 

Casey had a lower tolerance for drunkenness than Matt did. Casey had a lower tolerance for drunkenness than anyone did. And a quick temper. And a big mouth. And he’d been running it pretty consistently, complaining about Ben. 

“Ok.” Matt told him. 

“That’s it?” 

“What do you want me to say?” 

“I want you to say Casey’s a dick.” 

“I’m not getting in between you two.” Matt had learned long ago to stay out of the twisted relationship that Ben and Casey’s traumatic childhood had forged.

“He’s not right about me, right?” 

“What’s he saying?” 

“He says I’m an alcoholic.” 

Silence filled the room. Matt swallowed. He didn’t want to use the word.

“So you think he’s right?” Ben asked. 

“It doesn’t matter what I think.” 

“Of course it does, Matt.” 

“Not really. It doesn’t matter what any of us think unless you think it.” 

They sat in silence. When Ben didn’t respond, Matt got up and walked out of the room to hide from both Afflecks in the kitchen. 

*

For a while, things changed. Years even. They were busy being broke for what felt like ages. 

Then they were lucky and things got a little easier and sure there was a lot of beer and shots and weed for a while, but they were young and things were going their way and it made sense. They were artists after all. 

Matt’s partying just as much as Ben, and between the alcohol and the sex and the weed there’s writing and planning and a whole lot of great conversation and it’s not a question of inebriation, it’s a question of creation. It takes a whole lot to empty your soul onto a page, to put your hopes and dreams out there for people to reject on a day to day basis. 

Matt starts to understand- the drink isn’t addicting. The peace afterwards is. 

So after they’ve climbed their mountain, after their supposedly meteoric rise to the top, Matt’s a little shocked when Ben comes over to his place in the middle of the night and asks him again.

“Do you think I’m an alcoholic?” 

He opened the door wider and guided Ben in. 

He’d had a date earlier, but had decided not to spend the night. No point in getting the poor girl’s hopes up. 

Matt wouldn’t have been home if Ben had come an hour earlier. He wondered if he would have come home in the morning to see Ben still waiting for him. 

“What makes you ask that?” Ben walked into the living room and flopped down on the couch.

“Is it a surprising question for me to ask?” 

“I dunno if it’s surprising… what happened, Ben?” 

“I got into an accident.” 

“What?” Matt rushed to the couch and started checking Ben over. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine. I just smashed my car in my garage.” Matt cringed. Ben had paid too much for a car that was too small and got too much attention. But he loved it. He’d seen the way Ben’s eyes lit up when he would walk to the car, touch it’s shiny exterior as he moved to the driver’s seat. Even if it was just a scratch, when he saw it tomorrow morning, Matt was sure Ben would be devastated. “I really thought I had more room.”

“What the fuck were you doing driving anyways, you idiot?”

He shrugged and Matt felt annoyed that he had to ask. 

“How’d you get here, if you wrecked your car?” 

“Cab.” 

“What was so wrong with getting a fucking cab out to wherever the fuck you were going tonight?” 

“I thought I was still good.”

“You’re an absolute fucktard, you know that, right?” 

“No need to get testy. Drama queen much?” 

“Jesus Christ, Ben. Don’t you get it? You could have killed someone tonight. You could have killed yourself.” 

“I think you’re overreacting.” 

“I think you’re an asshole. And a child. And yes, a fucking alcoholic.” 

There was a silence in the room. It was unlike anything Matt had ever felt before. It wasn’t that he sugar coated things for Ben. But he wasn’t usually so brash, either. 

For whatever reason, Ben tended to attract a certain negative energy, and perhaps connected, his reputation wasn’t exactly stellar. People didn’t always like him. Matt didn’t try to shield Ben from this- there wasn’t a way to do that- not with someone as curious and mildly self obsessed as Ben- but he couldn’t help but want to soften the blows when possible.

He wasn’t dishonest, per se. But when Ben came in to ask him questions about what other people were saying about him, Matt tried his hardest to put a positive spin on it.

This was a doozy of an issue to spin.

Matt had been there. He remembered what Ben and Casey's father was like. He knew what the word meant, could see in Ben’s eyes whenever alcoholic was muttered in his presence. It might as well have been failure for all the difference it meant. 

And Ben wasn’t a failure. He was doing fantastic. Comparatively. He was a functioning adult- sort of. The kind of adult with a flashy car and a lot of gossip and maybe a few not so great career choices, but functioning all the same. 

Matt had always seen Ben as the kind of prick who didn’t know his limits, who would put other people at risk rather than inconvenience himself. That did feel like a failure to Matt. 

So he stood firmly, waiting for Ben to react. 

Ben stared at him for a minute, finally looking away to grab a pillow and turn into the couch. 

“Mind if I crash here tonight?” He asked, not waiting for an answer before closing his eyes. 

*  
It was the middle of the night when Matt heard the knock at the door. 

He ignored it. 

“I know you’re not asleep, asshole.”

“I was until you got up, asshole.” 

“Can I come in?”

“The door’s not locked.” 

“That’s not what I asked, is it?” 

Matt stayed silent, let Ben squirm as long as he could allow. Maybe 30 seconds. He wasn’t a very good sadist. 

“Fine.” Ben immediately opened the door. “What do you want?” He sat at the foot of the bed and muttered something unintelligible. “What?” 

“I want help.” He finally said, looking up at Matt for a split second before ashamedly hiding his face from Matt’s gaze. 

“With a good mechanic’s name?” 

“Is now really the time for jokes?” Ben asked. 

“I’m not a professional. And I don’t know any. I can ask around for you if you want, but other than that, what can I do, Ben?” 

For a long time, nothing happened.

Then Ben crawled up the bed and planted himself next to Matt, puts his gigantic head on Matt's shoulder and grabbed his hand. 

“Tell me everything's gonna be alright.” He asked. Then he squeezed Matt’s hand. 

Matt squeezed back. 

“Everything is gonna be alright.” He promised, having no idea if it could be true.

*  
“You look like shit.” Matt says when Ben opened the door. 

He turned back around, the ends of his bathrobe swirling around him like a cape in the wind. Ben Affleck, the world’s most pathetic superhero. 

“Thanks.” He grabbed the bag of food from Matt’s hand. “I feel like shit.” 

“What day are you on?” Matt asked as he followed Ben into the kitchen. 

“Days? Sober? I’m lucky to be counting in hours at this point.” Matt frowned. 

“I thought you said you were gonna start on Tuesday.” 

“It’s not Tuesday?” 

“It’s Friday, Ben.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Matt watched as Ben took in a few breaths, tried to recall the last time he’d blacked out for three days, and couldn’t even manage that. 

“I really don’t think you should do this alone.” Matt finally said. “There are places made to help you through this.” 

“And I really want pictures of me walking into a place like that being plastered over the whole world, huh?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Ben. There are countless places on this planet where people don’t even know you exist.” 

“Could you let up on me, just a little?” 

“I didn’t realize I was riding you.” 

“I wish.” The second it came out of his mouth, Ben regretted it. 

It was supposed to be a joke. He’d meant to use his sardonic/asinine voice. He’d meant to be silly and perhaps a smidge flirtatious but it had come out all wrong. It had come out sincere. 

That was the last thing he needed to be thinking about 

“Ok.” 

Ben looked over at Matt in sheer confusion. Hallucinations were part of detox, but they were usually visual, not auditory spectors escaping from the depths of Ben’s repressed desires. 

“What?” 

No way. It had been years. Literal years, since they’d done anything more than maybe a too-long hug or a peck on the lips after a particularly long absence.

When they were younger, there were excuses. It was experimentation. It was curiosity- they were broke and stupid kids who no sane woman would ever go near. There wasn’t a need to worry about anything they were doing because at the end of the day, the fact that they were best friends who cared for each other deeply and the fact that they were fucking on a somewhat regular basis were separated by a fairly thick wall of necessity. 

Every guy needed affection. What a convenient arrangement this was that their mental attraction to each other carried over just enough so that they could help each other out when times were tough. 

But times weren’t tough anymore. The world had decided it was time to “discover” them, when that success suddenly afforded not just comfort, but attention of girls that wouldn’t have given them the time of day without their newly minted important names. 

It had been so long now since time wasn’t tough. Matt didn’t seem to have any problem with that- despite everything that had been said about the two of them, Matt hadn’t needed anything from Ben besides friendship, so Ben had decided not to need anything more from him. 

That is, he’d at least tried to. 

Matt was of the opinion that he was very cerebral and that Ben was all heart. And while Ben had more than a few words to say about Matt’s self assessment, he would begrudgingly admit that it wasn’t inaccurate to say that Ben was the more emotional of them. So denying that need for the now defunct part of their relationship was hard for him. Harder than it was for Matt, obviously. Matt, who could toss someone aside like a rag doll. 

At least Ben wasn’t one of Matt’s rag dolls. At least they were still friends. 

“Do you think it would help?” Matt asked. 

Well, fuck. If Ben had known it was this easy to get back into Matt’s pants, he would have gone sober a long, long time ago. 

“It wouldn’t hurt.” He said. He wanted to be nonchalant, to make sure he didn’t mess this chance- if it really was a chance- up. But it came out too honest, like before. He waited to see if he’d fucked it up. He was used to fucking things up. 

Matt walked into the kitchen proper and grabbed a glass from the cabinet, pouring himself some water. Ben watched the bob of Matt’s Adam’s apple as he drank, nearly forgetting to breathe and desperately wanting to punch him because the suspense of Matt’s decision was killing him- and he knew that it was killing Ben, and he liked that it was killing Ben and he’s such a fucking asshole sometimes he could just…

But he didn’t want to finish that thought, because for every move he could make in a best friend-to-the-point-of-wanting-to-kill-him way, there was an equal but opposite action that could be considered perverse, ponorographic, erotic if you wanted to get romantic (and Ben was the type who always liked getting romantic.) 

“Why not?” He finally said. “I don’t have anything better to do this weekend.” 

Ben wanted to shoot off a snarky retort to Matt’s smart-ass remark, but he felt like shit and he wasn’t gonna use what little amount of his microscopic brain functions to spit out a little sarcasm. 

He rushed Matt, pressed him up to the refrigerator, and kissed the everloving daylight out of him. 

Matt, for his part, put the cup down on the counter and put his hands on Ben’s chest. For a second, he thought Matt was going to pull him closer, but was sorely surprised when Matt used just enough force for it to feel insulting as he pushed him away. 

“Breathe, Romeo.” He said with a laugh. 

“But you said-”

“I know what I said. But you don’t think you can just say “sober” and I’m going to drop to my knees on your kitchen floor, do you?” 

“Do you want me on my knees?” 

“I want you sober, Ben. I want you to get through this and realize how much better you’re going to be.” 

“You’re bribing me with sex?” 

“I like to think of it as rewarding you.” 

“Your dick’s not that special, Damon.” Ben said. Matt laughed because he knew it was a lie. 

Ben hated that about him. Everyone seemed to see him as a cocky asshole with too much bravado, cruel irony considering the two diva’s he’d grown up with. 

The problem wasn’t really that people thought he was a dick. The problem was Matt and Casey’s bravado was well deserved. They were amazing, talented, fantastic. They deserved to act the way everyone thought Ben acted. Ben didn’t know why he was the one everyone was so sure about. 

“Let’s get some food in you” Matt started. “We can see about anything else later.” 

*

He knew the only reason he'd survived the night was because Matt had taken pity and crawled into bed next to him.

Ben had bent down to kiss Matt, assuming that enough hours had passed without a drink to successfully deserve his promised reward. Matt moved out of Ben’s way before his lips made it anywhere near him. Apparently he didn’t agree. 

“Really?” 

“You need to sleep.” Matt said. “Trust me.” 

But how was he supposed to sleep? 

Without alcohol, Ben’s mind was racing a million miles a minute.

A thousand stupid things he’d said over the course of his lifetime all needed to be replayed at that exact moment, two million stupid ideas he regretted not exploring raced through his head, and a countless number of mistakes crept in like taunting bullies, reminding him that he could never go back and fix the countless things he’d screwed up over the course of his life. 

Infuriatingly, the biggest thing he’d screwed up was sleeping like a baby right next to him. 

He tried not to stare, unsure if his frustration at the moment was of a sexual nature, or just plain jealousy over how peaceful Matt looked. How beautiful Matt looked. How perfect Matt looked. 

On top of everything else, his entire body was working against him. He expected the pounding headache and the nausea- how cruel was alcohol to have the same effect whether too present or not present enough? It didn’t feel like a funny joke at the moment. Expected, accepted, but cruel all the same were the pounding in his head. What somehow hadn’t registered for Ben was the aches and pains running through the rest of his body. 

He couldn’t get comfortable for even a minute. Every time he got his right calf to relax, something in his left shoulder would tense up and he’d have to move again. He found what he thought might be the perfect sweet spot, lying on his side facing the dead-to-the-world Matt, only to become hyper aware of all the blood pooling to one side of his body and throwing him off. 

He turned around and began fidgeting again, until an arm wrapped around him, and he felt Matt’s breath. He froze and Matt pressed his lips to the sweet spot where his neck and shoulder met. He kissed up until he found Ben’s ear and gave it a playful nibble. 

“Go to sleep.” he whispered. 

“How do you expect me to do that when you’re getting all cuddly on me?” Matt kissed his ear again. 

“Sleep.” he said, and with that he was out like a light again. But he hadn’t moved his arm. Ben laid as still as possible to ensure that Matt wouldn’t and, eventually, he fell asleep too. 

*

Ben woke up alone in bed and for a moment was convinced that the night before had been a hallucination. 

Matt hadn’t come over, or if he had, he’d left last night and Ben had imagined the whole agreement. 

This new information in hand, he thought about getting up and going to the kitchen for a drink, but the second he sat up, the door opened and there was Matt with smoothies and toast. 

“What did I do to deserve breakfast in bed?” Ben asked as Matt handed him a glass. 

“Nothing.” He told him as he climbed in beside him. “But I deserve it for having to put up with your clammy feet kicking me all night.” Ben watched with a giant grin on his face as Matt leaned back into the pillows. God damn Matt looked gorgeous when he smiled. 

“You’re proud of that?” He asked. “That was a good one?” Matt threw a pillow which narrowly missed Ben’s head. 

He had to catch himself from face planting on the bed. It’s not that he wouldn’t’ve liked an excuse to dive head first into Matt’s lap, he just didn’t want it to be because he wasn’t even on his feet and the room had begun spinning. He hadn’t felt this way since he’d been a kid with access to too much of his dad’s beer and parents too busy hating each other to properly tell him to stop. 

Matt caught him- he could have let him fall a few more inches onto the pillows- but then his smoothie wouldn’t be splattered all over the bedspread. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” Ben said. He didn’t know why he was apologizing- Matt had been the one who spilled, and it was his bed after all. But, lying in Matt’s arms, lacking the energy to move even a few inches, and knowing that even if he did, he wouldn’t do it, he did feel sorry.

“It’s not important.” 

For a minute, they just sat there. Whatever cucumber-lemon-carrot concoction Matt had made began to dry on Ben’s sheets, but Ben had let worse dry on his sheets, and he wanted to savor every second that he could because being in Matt’s arms had been making him feel safe since he was a kid, practically the only constant in his life, and right then, he’d cling to any constant he could. 

As always, it ended too soon. Matt shifted, helped him lay down and got off the bed. 

“You need to keep hydrated.” He warned, grabbing his upturned glass. Ben’s, full and forgotten, sits on the nightstand. “I’ll be right back.” 

Ben closed his eyes, and when he opened them, Matt was sitting on the other side of the bed, flipping the pages of a book he’d taken off Ben’s “Read Me” pile. The blanket was nowhere to be seen but Ben thought he could make out the sound of the washing machine going and wondered if Matt knew how to work it because he hadn’t bothered to figure it out himself yet. 

“You read a lot of boring shit.” Matt said once he noticed Ben awake. 

“I haven’t read that yet. Don’t tell me what happens.” 

“Nothing happens.” 

“I said don’t tell me.” 

Save the gentle flipping of pages- too fast for Matt to be doing anything other than skimming- they laid in silence. 

“How long was I out?” Ben finally asked. 

“Two hours.” 

“What time is it?” 

“You forget how to read a clock? It’s right beside you.” Ben didn’t feel like moving to look. 

“Yes.” 

“It’s digital.” 

“Why are you being so difficult?” He instantly regretted snapping. This was, after all, his own damn fault. And Matt had, out of the kindness of his heart or the sense of duty to his oldest friend, agreed to give up his entire weekend to help him. Ben wouldn’t blame him for snapping right back, storming out of the room and never coming back. 

But he didn’t do that. He just flipped the next page of the book and stared at the words. 

“It’s 11:30.” He said. 

“Should we get up?” 

“You tell me.” 

Ben didn’t want to get out of bed- maybe ever again. There was some part of him that felt guilty about wasting a Saturday. Time was beginning to become scarce- not always, not terribly, but every year Ben was becoming more aware of just how taxing it was to be wanted. And the number one thing he seemed to have to give up for that was his free time. 

Just because he was going through a detox didn’t mean he should have to waste the entire weekend. 

He had fully planned on writing, reading the “boring” book Matt was flippantly flipping through, and maybe going grocery shopping, out for a movie or just down to the beach for a while. 

Now, the thought of going outside made his both his stomach and his toes curl up in disgust. All he wanted to do at the moment was put his head under a pillow- or maybe in Matt’s lap- and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist. 

“So, I guess that’s a no.” Matt said. 

“Let’s just stay in bed all day.” Ben suggested. 

He looked up into Matt’s eyes. There was something about watching Matt think that always got to Ben. It wasn’t that he did anything particularly spectacular, his expressions weren’t any more special than the rest of the ones he made, but there was a sort of gleam in his eyes when he was mulling something over- whether it be the current state of affairs in China or what he was going to have for dinner that night- that went straight to Ben’s balls. 

Eventually, Matt grabbed the television remote and laid back on the mountain of pillows Ben had shoved to his side of the bed- Wait. His side of the bed? 

Matt had spent the night all of three times since he’d gotten this new place, and they’d both ended up passed out on the couch each time. 

And yet there Ben was giving Matt something he didn’t want, again. 

“Ok. If that’s what you want.” Matt said as he relaxed into the pillows. 

At first, Ben thought perhaps Matt was reading his mind- and if anyone could… It freaked him out a little. 

It slowly trickled down that he was talking about the proposition of spending all day in bed, and while not quite as nice a thought as Matt staying in bed with him forever, beggars couldn’t be choosers, so Ben shut his mouth and moved an inch closer to where Matt was reclining. 

Matt put on the TV but Ben could only concentrate on slowly inching his way closer to Matt, who graciously pretended he didn’t notice what was happening until Ben’s head was in his lap. 

“Stop.” He told him. 

“I’m not doing anything.” Ben lied. Matt tried to shift so that he’d have to move, which only made things worse since his half hard cock accidentally brushed against Ben’s cheek. 

Was it accidental? He wanted to think so, but it had been so long...maybe too long… since he’d had all of Ben’s attention like this. And, yes, the only reason he did was because Ben was currently in his own private turmoil- if anyone believed in sexual healing more than Ben, Matt certainly hadn’t met them. 

But even so, there was some part of him that wasn’t sad about the fact that Ben had so eagerly agreed to this ludicrous sex-as-rehab scheme.

Maybe Matt had missed Ben more than he’d realized. Maybe he just didn’t want to admit it. 

*

“Wake up.” Ben slowly opened his eyes. He could see the concern on Matt’s face, which meant that there was light in the room, so he immediately closed his eyes again. 

“What?!” He asked, throwing a pillow over his aching head. 

“You’re burning up.” 

“No I’m not.” Ben said. 

“You’ve got a fever.”

“It’s fucking freezing in here.” 

“Go take a shower and cool down.” 

“Only if you come with me.” 

Matt sighed. Their relationship dynamic hadn’t changed much over the years. When it came to looking out for each other, Ben tended to imagine trouble lurking in every corner, meaning that he’d miss the actual pitfalls right in front of him, and more times than he could count, Matt would scoop him up right before he’d fall into them. 

Matt saw trouble coming a mile ahead and ceaselessly tried to help Ben avoid it. But Ben always took Matt’s advice as a chore or an obligation. For Ben, Matt’s attempts to look out for him were simply an opportunity to cajole him into giving him something else that he wanted, and because Matt couldn’t help but want the best for Ben, he’d lost count over how many times he’d rewarded Ben for doing things for his own good. 

But in the hours he’d spent alone while Ben had passed out, he’d been thinking. And the truth was, Matt wanted this just as much as Ben did. Well, that was a little much- but there was definitely a part of him that could admit to wanting him, too. 

“Fine.” He said as he climbed out of his side of the bed. Ben took the pillow off his face and looked surprised. Matt simply walked around the bed towards the bathroom. “Come on.” 

By the time Ben finally got into the bathroom, Matt had the shower running and his clothes off. He screwed with the knob a little while Ben attempted to pull off his clothes without taking his eyes off Matt. 

“What?” Matt finally asked when he could take no more of his stare. 

“You look amazing.” Matt rolled his eyes. 

“Just get in the shower.” He said, and Ben did as he was told. The second Matt turned around to grab a towel he heard Ben yelp. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s fuccccking frrreezing.” 

“You’ve got a fever, Ben. You need to cool down.” Ben started fucking with the temperature and Matt swatted his hand away from the faucet. 

“Ow!” 

“Stop being such a baby.” 

“Stop treating me like a baby.” 

“I’m just trying to help. Do you always have to be so... vexatious?”

Matt watched Ben’s lips curl up into a smile- something he hadn’t seen enough of lately- and then erupt in laughter. 

“Vexatious?” He asked. “What’s wrong with good old fashioned annoying?” Matt rolled his eyes as he got into the shower. 

“You’ve long surpassed the threshold for good old fashioned annoying.”

“I know.” Ben turned around and suddenly they were standing against each other. 

The shower was nice, more than big enough for the two of them to comfortably stand without invading each other’s space. But neither of them wanted to do that. 

They stood there, millimeters away from touching, until Ben finally pulled Matt in and kissed him. 

It wasn’t that they hadn’t kissed for eons- it was that they’d fallen into something chaste, appropriate- not that anything between them was arguably appropriate for public consumption- but whatever they’d moved into, at that moment in the shower it had completely melted away, back to the fiery, hungry passion they’d both convinced themselves they had grown out of. 

After a few moments of not-so-gentle kissing, Ben pressed Matt up against the wall and kissed down his chest as he knelt in front of him. He shuddered as Ben took him in his mouth. Of all the experiences he’d had, there really wasn’t anything like Ben. And it was one of the things Ben fully knew he was good at. 

There wasn’t any rustiness for him, which made Matt wonder what exactly Ben had been up to, but he wasn’t in any position to comment. He simply closed his eyes and concentrated on the way the water cascaded off his shoulders until Ben took him down his throat and after that it was over embarrassingly quickly. Well, quickly at least. It was hard to be embarrassed in front of Ben- the resident king of embarrassing. 

He stood back up, apparently Matt’s come was a good replacement for vodka and whiskey. Good enough to bring a little sparkle back to his eyes at least. 

“Thanks.” Matt wanted to say something better, but he wasn’t sure what that would be. 

Ben was still smiling like an idiot as he started to fall. Matt caught him, dragging him back to bed before walking back into the bathroom to turn off the shower. 

When he got back, Ben was making his best attempt at posing seductively, big brown bedroom eyes trying their hardest to hide their bloodshot pain. 

“What?” Matt asked. 

“What? Nothing.” Matt climbed onto the bed, dipping his head to meet Ben’s and kissing him. 

They were both shocked at how passionately Matt kissed him, but before he knew what was happening, they had fallen into a dizzying bliss, and neither one of them was interested in second guessing what their bodies were doing. 

Ben moved up onto his elbows and Matt straddled him, amazed at how quickly he’d gotten rock hard again, just from kissing and the way Ben throbbed against him. He wrapped his hand around both of their cocks and started stroking. 

Before long, Ben was moaning on Matt’s lips, bucking up against him, and the sensation of his skin against Matt was intoxicating. He didn’t want to admit it, but Ben might have had a point about this whole detox-by-dick thing…

*

When it was over, Matt shuddered at how sad he was. 

Ben fell asleep remarkably quickly- not that Matt minded. He was happy that Ben could find a little rest after the days he’d been through. Only now Matt was left alone with his thoughts, and he wasn’t sure he wanted that sort of analytical power focused on his current predicament. 

He grabbed a book, just so he wouldn’t waste his night watching his best friend sleep. But it wasn’t much help.

The next morning, Ben was up earlier than Matt- and up enough to bring Matt a bowl of cereal. He looked more like himself than Matt had seen in years. 

“Will you stop staring at me like you’ve seen a ghost?” He asked. Matt shook himself out of it, knowing that in a way, he was. 

They parted ways that afternoon without talking about what had gone on- same old story. 

*

It didn’t work- Matt wasn’t the first person in the history of the world to hope that his love would be enough to fix an addict. 

With a new wife and a baby on the way, Matt wasn’t actually surprised when Ben came to him for a tune up. If nothing else, Matt always seemed to know when his best friend was in trouble. 

But he didn’t have it in him to help. He was in love, and while neither Jen or Lucy were prudes, it wasn’t in Matt to cheat. 

Ben argued that if anything, they were cheating on each other with Lucy and Jen, but the argument didn’t stick for Matt. 

The week after, Ben bit the bullet and went into rehab. He was sober when his baby girl was born a few months later. 

Matt wouldn’t ruin the natural high that the baby brought him, but even though she was a beautiful girl, he knew she wasn’t going to be enough to save him either. He prayed that someday, something would cure him. In the meantime, Matt would always be there for him.


End file.
